
Class 
Book_ii^'lB^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOStr. 



REPRINTED VERSES 



BY 



FRANK R. WHITTEN. 



ORIGINALLY CONTRIBUTED TO VARIOUS PUBLICATIONS. 
CHIEFLY NEWSPAPERS, AND NOW FIRST 
COLLECTED, BY REOUEST. 



Lynn, Mass. 

Luther C. Parker & Co. 

1903. 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAR 2 1903 

Copvn^t Entry 

cuss OL. XXc. No 

COPY 8. 



^■, r^.-X r 



COPYRIGHTED 1902 

BV 

FRAXK R. WHITTEN. 



DcMcation. 

Again let these imperfect rhymes 

Be gathered here for friends of old — 
The friends who in the earlier times 

Of youth and striving were not cold 
But kind and steadfast. Only such 

May care again to trace the verse, 
That whether counted good for much, 

Or only empty, vain or worse, 
Was still a soul's aspiring song — 

Sincere outpourings from the heart; 
It may be crude, constructed wrong. 

Unpolished by the rules of art. 
Yet having still this grain of worth, 

That youth and manhood here expressed 
What they had found in this old earth — 

Divinest, noblest, holiest, best. 



F. R. w. 



New York, December, 1902. 
P. O. Box 654. 



CONTENTS. 



Flood-Tide 7 

The Arcadian Shepherd Boy . . 7 

Love Supreme 7 

Affinities 8 

A Rhymster's Mercenary Reflection 8 

Ode, at the Consecration of Music Dell 8 

A Face 9 

Memorial Day, 1885 9 

Unexpressed 9 

If 1 Could Sing ^ 

Death and Beauty 10 

At Rest 10 

Reconciliation . 10 

The Risen Lord H 

Chastisement H 

Three Portraits 11 

Self-Forgetfulness H 

A Dream of the Higher Love 12 

A Portrait 12 

The Unanswered Cry 12 

A Life Medley I3 

A Dream of Life 15 

Praise 16 

What is Love 16 

Cradle Song 16 

The Storm 17 

The Abiding Truth I7 

Sonnet 1 7 

When 1 Die 18 

Easter Hymn 18 

Unrecognized 18 

Sonnets 19 

To Liberty 19 



CONTENTS.— CONTINUED. 

Two Royal Months * 19 

A Forest Meditation 20 

Spanish Love Song 20 

Night 20 

The Dead Sun 21 

Keats -21 

Questionings 21 

Sonnet 22 

Two Songs 22 

A Sea Picture 22 

Call to Action 23 

In Change— Unchangeable 23 

My Books 23 

Christmas, 1881 24 

Be Strong 24 

Opening of the Service 24 

Little Things 24 

Heigh-Ho 24 

The Weather 24 

Daybreak 25 

Poetical Paraphrase 26 

My Ideal 26 

Nature and Art 26 

Summer Evening 27 

Hymn— God in Nature 27 



'|:?'|:»'i^ 



REPRINTED VERSES. 



FLOOD-IIDE. 

I hear the risuTg- waters where they 
urge 

The raging', nois^y and tumultuous surge 
To climb the sandy reaches of the 
shore. 

The tide is up and miles of marshes 
low 

Are buried 'iieath re--istless overflow, 
While ocean chants with hoarse, vic- 
torious roar. 

Each pool and rivulet grows broad and 

free. 
Swells 'and throbs high responsive to the 

sea. 
No sound is heard save that melodious 

surf. 
In undertone sonorous and sublime- 
That changeless voice, as old as earth 

or time — 
Where leagues of ocean .^mite the 

trembling turf. 

And lilie those restless waves methinks 

is life. 
Filling the world with tierce and noisy 

strife. 
Uneonquered, yet unconquering are 

we, 
Beating in vain the walls of our desire- 
Now hushed in peace, now frantic in 

our ire — 
Man's life is strange and awful, like 

the .sea. 



THE ARCADIAN SHEPHERD- 
BOY. 

The valley walls are high and steep. 
But here the grasses cool and deep 

Are swayed by breezes from the Soulh. 
Soft zephyrs lull the land to sleep, 
And over tasseled grass plumes creep, 
In whispered melod.w 
Like kis-es Ijlown from Summer's 
mouth, 
O'er hill and plain low-rustling sweep 
The gales of Arcady. 

The shepherd-pipes breathe low and 

sweet. 
The tender weanling's plaintive bleat 

Floats upward thro' the drow.-y air. 
Yon lakelet's rippled azure sheet. 
The gauzy clouds, borne high and fleet, 
The mountain's majesty- 
New tjirths of beauty everywhere 
The joyful shepherd's senses^ greet, 
Who dwells in Arcady. 



A happy shepherd lad am I, 

None more so underneath the sky. 

My cause of bli.-s you'd never guess! 
'Tis not in vernal beauties high. 
Nor in this reed, from which I try 
To draw sweet liarmony; 
But I have won my shepherdess. 
And that is truest reason why 
There' ^ joy in Arcady. 

In sipite of my unworthiness. 

She does not therefore love me less. 

Of all our band she is the queen. 
Who rules w'th love's own gentleness, 
Whose very .ook has power to bless, 
And win our loyalty. 

O tell the tale in valleys green! 

fill the earth with happiness! 

Ye winds of Aroady. 

For in a favored woodland spot 
My hands have reared a tiny cot. 

And she consents to share my nest. 
Tho' ours is but a humble lot. 
Yet grandest kings we envy not 
Their pomp and pageantr\-. 
For love shall amply add the re-t 
To that one treasure we have got— 
Our home in Arcady. 

Arcadian hills are doubly dear. 
Since I have won my darling here. 

Talk not to me of fairer lands. 
Of skies more heavenly bright and clear. 
Nor say that sweeter sights appear 
In Thrare or Thessaly. 
This scene my homage still commands; 
There is no country far or near. 
So fair as Arcady. 

And when the sunset gilds the West, 

1 gladly seek my place of rest 
.\mid tlie groves' belov'd of Pan. 

"Tis there, with love and plenty blest. 
By care and envy undistressed. 

We share the luxury 
Which kindly Nature grants to man-. 
O well may shepherds sing their best 

In praise of Arcady! 



LOVE SUPREME. 

The world moveth faster. 
Of sweet Love in awe; 

For God is the master. 
And Love is the law. 

Full-fledged and undaunted, 
Ijove never grows old. 

His banner's best flaunted 
When Angers are cold. 

Best fruit of our labor. 
Best gain for our loss— 

From gifts to a neighbor. 
To death on the cross! 



REPRINTED VERSES. 



Know'st thou a fair maiden, 
Whom none stand above, 

With graces rich-laden— 
The light of thy love? 

That love shall still find her. 
When farthest apart— 

Shall free, and yet bind her 
Close, close to thine heart. 

Methinks that God holds us 
With still deeper love; 

His spirit enfolds us, 
Around and above. 

Through foam and through fire, 

Ye sons of the sword, 
O look ye up higher, 

For LrOve is the Lord! 

O list to the chorus! 

In hovel or hall. 
Love standeth before us. 

And pleadeth for all. 

O haste to Love's altar! 

O bow at his throne! 
Nor palter nor falter. 

But make Him youi' own. 

The .world moveth faster. 
Of sweet Love in awe; 

For God is the master. 
And Love is the law. 



AFFINITIES. 

How strange that two, first meeting in 
the throng, 
Will sometimes, in the shock of that 

first glance. 
Be thrilled and raptured at such happy 
chance; 
Tho' strangers, feeling, by some in- 
stinct strong. 
That their soul-chords, united in one 
song. 
Would speak sweet harmonies, fit to 

entrance 
The coldest spirit, and would so en- 
hance 
Their separate lives that naught could 
vex them long. 

O .subtle blisis! when hearts together 
leap 
In swift telegraphy of meeting eyes. 
That burning moment's memory never 
dies. 
These passion-echoes, heard across life's 

deep 
By isouls who partlv wake from 
troubled sleep. 
Are not surpas-ed by any nearer ties. 



A RHYMSTER'S MERCENARY 
REFLECTION. 

I met some gay daughters of fashion 

to-da.\ . 
While walking this morning betimes: 
He IS nothmg at all," 1 heard one of 

them isay, 
"But a beggarly writer of rhymes." 

I appealed to my Muse that she might 
decide:— 
"Shall povertv rank among crime*"'" 
'Far better be beggarly .writer," she 
cried. 
"That a writer of beggarly rhymes." 
"As the world goes, however " I then 
answered her, 
"Tho' my choice may not seem very 
high, 
I would greatly prefer, if either occur, 
that my rhymes should be beggars 
than I." 



ODE 

At the Consecration of Music Dell, 
Lynn, Mass., May 30, 18S7. 

Assembled here in a secret dell, 

That Nature has loved both long and 
well. 

Again we have fled from the sordid 
cares 

Of the outer world, with its grim de- 
spairs, 

Its cold rebuffs and its bitter hate. 

From its low desires and fierce debate. 

To the forest depths, where comes no 
strife, 

W'here all is teeming- with joyous life; 

Where the soul from its worry and pain 
may cease. 

And be filled with rest and abundant 
ipeace. 

We come to consecrate this glen 

In Music's sacred name! 
Rekindle in our spirits then 

Bright inspiration's flame! 
Mix joy within us, powers above, 

With meekness of the flower — 
The little bloom, that tells God's love 

In this auspicious hour. 

The forest music sweet 
What poet could repeat? 
The carol of the bird. 
Thro' rustling branches heard; 
The whisper of the pines. 
And through the tangled vines. 
More sweet, perchance, than all, 
The far-heard waterfall. 

In fragrant nights of June, 
The cricket's merry tune 
May sioothe the traveler's ear. 
And fill his heart with cheer. 

While overhead the twinkling stars 
appear; 
And from the wooded hill 
Tlie plaintive whippoorwill 

Sends out persistent greeting, loud 
and clear. 

Amid the woodland hush. 
The linnet and the thrush 
To sweeter songs asipire. 
And from their feathered choir 

A yearning note like man's supreme 
desire 
Swells forth in accents sweet. 
And mingles with the beat 

Of that deep surf, whose song doth 
never tire. 

Let man then bring his best. 

And blend it with the rest! 

Let reed and string and voice 

Accordantly rejoice! 

Let pipe and violin 

Be joined in merry din. 

And add to Nature's glee 

A note as glad and free. 

Oh. come, supreme magician! 

We wait thy spell, musician. 

When all life's joysi grow pale. 

And neither tender tale 

Nor poet's sweetest lay 

Can i^righten life's dull day. 

Then bring us Music's charm. 

And all our cares disarm. 

Let whispered tone of flute. 

Or tender-tuned lute. 

Plead low. till grief be mute. 

Oh. where isi one would even fear to 

die. 
If soothed to sleep by music's lullaby? 

When patriots rouse, in freedom's name. 
To crush foul tyranny or shame, 
What word or deed can be so strong 
To help the glorioug cause along-, 
As som€ melodious battle song? 



REPRINTED VERSES. 



The thousands who have felt its power 
Rush on to death, in war's dread hour, 
For liberty content to die, 
Nor pause for question or reply. 

Wordsi fail when Love's young joy is 

found; 
"When that time comes let mujiic sound, 
And tell the meaning in true lovers' 
eyes ; 
i^tpeating o'er and o'er 
'Love's deeply hidden lore. 
That else is only told in looks and sighs. 

When the viols, pascion breathing. 
Round about the lovers wreathing 
Mystic Web of hopes and fears. 
Filled the secret shady bowers. 
Where the heavy scented flowersi 
Biought them rapture fit for tear.— 
Then her eyesi grew soft and dreamful. 
And his heart was like a stream-full. 
When the swelling tides of Spring, 

Calling loudly. 

Rolling proudly. 
Bounteous overflowings bring. 
Poured from East and gusty South, 
Choking- up the river's mouth; 
So their beingsi throbbed with rapture — 
Joy elusive few can capture. 
Held their glowing hearts in thrall. 
Leave them locked in pure embraces! 
Leave them with the loves and graces, 
Crowned with life's best gift of all. 

For worship, too. Oh let me not forget. 

Sweet words and sweeter .-^trains' have 

often met. 

When falls the twilight dim, 

We'll raise a sacred hymn 

To that great God, whose love is round 

us all. 
And still upholds' us, even when we fall. 

Let loudest exaltations. 
Uplifted by the nations, 
Arise to Him in full triumphant choi'd. 
And speak the praises of our King and 
Lord. 
Harmonious are His ways. 
Then bring harmonious lays. 
And loudly to His prai-e 

Your choral sing I 
To Him, whose loving power 
Has kept Us to this hour. 
In humble joy and rapturous amaze 
Our songs we bring. 

And oh, perchance In that bright realm, 
Where perfect peace doth overwhelm, 
The pain and sorrow that on earth as- 
sailed. 
Where joy ineffable and light unveiled 
Dawns on our souls — still sweeter songs 
May echo there from shining throngs:, 

Where dazzling Seraphim, 

In glory never dim. 

United voices raise 

In songs of happy praise. 
To swell w'ith higher note the universal 
hymn. 



A FACE. 

Whatever else of worth or grace 
The World may give or take away. 

The thoughit of one pure, peerless face 
I.~ with me sltlll from, day to day. 

Amid the noonltide's fervid heat — 
The stress and strain of daily life, 

lit haun'ts me stMl, serene and sweet. 
Through all the ismoke and din of 
strife. 

How small a thing may cheer one'iS 
heart 

And glorify the darkest place — 
An image ithat will not depart — 

The memory of a voice— a face. 



MEMORIAL DAY, 1885. 

Once more, in honor of the brave. 
Our wealth of garlands fair we 
spread. 
With reverent hands, on each low 
grave 
Where sleep the unforgotten dead. 

From Sumter's pealing signal-gun. 
Which brought the conflict to their 
ears. 
Till Appomattox field was won. 
They never quailed thro' long sad 
years. 

Then blazon on the scroll of fame 
Their names who fought for righteous 
cause. 

Whom God ordained in Freedom's, name 
To execute eternal laws. 

Yet at this time there- comes to me 

A higher hope, a deeper thought— 
The hope that wars may cease to be — 

The world to larger light be brought. 
God's peace on all He will bestow. 

Till, in some beauteous by and-by. 
To loftier stature men shall grow, 

And heroes will not need to die. 
Thro' battle" .■- lurid glare and din 

We feel the brotherhood o' man; 
We know God dwells above, within. 

And trust the wisdom of His plan. 

We trust that, somehow, out of strife. 
His will shall lead mankind to peace. 

Till dawns that day, w'ith blessings rife. 
When carnage shall forever cease. 



UNEXPRESSED. 

Untold iiy word or note, )jy sight or 
sound, 
A something lingers, higher far than 

.-peech 
Or any outward show can ever reach — 
A nameless mystery in all around. 
Than thought itself more subtle and 
profound; 
And yet its living power is felt by 

each, 
A consciousness he cannot know or 
teach. 
We catch faint glimpse of that blest re- 
gion's bound 
Above the dull, low round of common 

life- 
Some gleams of Peace, high-shining 
through the strife. 
Life seems a cold and cheerless winter's 
day. 
With gloom and chill and heavy sad- 
ness rife. 
Take this for comfort— be it what it 

may. 
Its best is far too high to know^ or say. 



IF I COULD SING. 

(RONDEAU.) 

If I could sing, as poets should, 
A song so true and wise and good 
That some amid the struggling thiong 
Might listen, and be made more strong, 
And yield to that diviner mood 
Which all have known, few understood, 
The world might use me as it would— 
For some would love me and my song. 
If I could sing! 

The beauties of the field and wood; 
The grace of gentle maidenhood. 
And all pure things opposed to wrong 
Should sweetly sing themselves along, 
And life's dark stormiS might seem less 
rude. 

If I could sing! 



10 



REPRINTED VERSES. 



DEATH AND BEAUTY. 

"She dwells with Beauty— Beauty that 
must die."— Keats. 

I. 
If Death takes me, whose rank unioveli- 
ness 
Like some vile weed encumbers earth's 

estate, 
'Ti.'^ worth no loud regret, and small 
debate. 
But O that thou, who livest but to 

bless— 
Thou blooming- ro-e of life's dark wil- 
derness! 
Should share with viler clay an equal 

fate, 
And worms so fair a temple desecrate. 
May furnish worthy rause for deep dis- 
tress. 
And yet. in nature's course, I surely 

know — 
Although perchance not meet to think 
it .so— 
Those rosy lips, well made for kisses 

sweet, 
That graceful form— thi.s heart with 
warm, quick beat, 
bnail .vilher soon, and after moulder 

low. 
O bitter certainty! O heavy woe! 

II. 

Is this the end? Shall beauty fade and 
die. 
And fairest life be changed to worth- 
less dust? 
Nay, surely God is loving, wise and 
just. 
These bodies are but iirison-, strong 

and high. 
Whose walls the fretful soul di5th oc- 
cupy. 
Fast bound with chains of sinful pride 

and lust; 
Nor seeks release, till Death says, 
"Come! Thou must!" 
And we are free at last to rise and fly. 
Then, tho' thy prison walls be costly- 
fair — 
Some image of thy spirit shining 
through. 
Yet if they cage thee from God's 
outer air. 
Dread not to see them fade like morning 
dew! 
Fear not the future! God is waiting 
there. 
To grant thee highe- joys and beauties 
new. 



All secret hopes within thy bosom 
burning. 
The scarcely dreamed of, wild and 
strange and sweet, 
The gurgling waters of the tide return- 
ing , . . 
Mav ^catter, realized, at thy waitmg 
■feet. 

It may not be in earthly times or places. 
Nor bound within our narrow human 
sl ope ; 
Yet somewhere lives in God's' unmeas- 
ured siaaces 
The sure fulfilment of thine highest 
hope. 

If thou art desolate and sick and weary. 
Defiled with sin, pursued In* cruel 
fate, 
Dear heart, take courage, tho' the night 
be dreary. 
And in the strength of meekness 
calmly wait. 



WAIT. 

O ye whosie lives are lone and filled with 
anguish, 
Your dearest yearnings all unsatisfied, 
Despair ye not, nor in the darkness 
languish. 
But wait, in hope, the turning of the 
tide. 
Still wait! 'Tis darkest just before the 
morning: 
A light shall break thro' cloudy griefs 
at last. 
With rays of joy and peace the earth 
adorning. 
And thou Shalt say, "Rejoice! the 
night is past." 
■Or if thou waitest, lonely and un.-leep- 
ing. 
To gain admittance at some stranger- 

None^may refuse to take thine heart in 
keeping 
If thou hast strength of spirit still 
to wait. 



will. 



AT REST. 

Rest for the weary hands. 
Rest for the aching feet; 
Drear were the desert lands- 
Rest is sweet. 

Kiss then the marble brow; 

Cold in her shroud she lies; 
Close the eyes gently now- 
Sweet blue eyes. 
Just a poor working girl, 
Weary of ceaseless toil; 
Yet she was as pure as pearl — 
Free from soil. 

Hers was a heavy lot; 

Now she is called to go; 
Let us regret it not- 
Better so. 

Ah. yes! beyond a doubt 

Death did not thwart her 
Woik it was wore her out- 
patient still. 

She was but one of such. 

O. they are not so rare! 
Blame not, but pity much 
Their despair. 

See her wan smile, that glows 

Just as if pain should cease; 
Doubt not that now she knows 

God's own peace. 
Hers was a weary road; 
Hers was a bitter life; 
God hath a gift bestowed— 
Rest from strife. 

Rest for the weary hands, 
Rest for the aching feet; 
Drear were the desert lands- 
Rest is sweet. 



RECONCILIATION. 

Forgive me, love, for what I said; 
I stand with bowed and patient head, 
For love's sake gladly yielding all. 
And let my oWn will stand or fall. 
In full accord those hearts may keep 
Wherein the streams of love runs deep; 
Then let us not spend life so brief. 
In petty strife and needless grief. 
No more. I pray! forbear! let be! 
Forgive! forget. Thou loves t me, 
.\ncf life has deeper, sweeter grown 
Since love was ours— let love atone. 
And heal and banish everything 
That bears a taint or brings a sting, 
Until, low-lying, side by side. 
We find sweet rest at eventide. 



REPRINTED VERSES. 



n 



THE RISEN LORD. 

Who is this whose woe they smiie at? 
Bourne before the throne of Pilate, 

Mocked at, spit upon. 
Hear the throng who lingei' nigh him, 
Loudly murmur "Crucify Him I" 

Blameless, Holy One. 

Then with savage hands they bear 

Him. 
And for cruel death prepare Him, 

On the rugged tree. 
Death for Love is all the paymen:; 
See them give Him royal raiment — 

Mock His sovereignty. 

But at la.?t His woes are ended, 
And His lifeless clay descended 

From the blood stained cross. 
His disciples, quite forsaken, 
Xow that death their King has takei'. 

Wail their bitter loss. 

Tenderly their hands arrayed Him, 
Wrapped in linen fine they laid Him 

Down in Joseph's tomb; 
And the women, softly weeping, 
While above their vigils keeping, 

Are oppressed with gloom. 

All the land is bathed in sorrow. 
Looking on a blank to-morrow, 

Xow that He is dead. 
Who can give us words of fire. 
Who shall be our great Messiah, 

In the Master's stead? 

Thu- death kept Him safe in hiding. 
Thus in charnel-house abiding, 

Jesus' body lay. 
But behold the matchless wonder! 
Bonds of death are burst asunder, 

On the third great day. 

He is risen I He is risen I 

Left His dark and loathsome prison. 

Conquered e'en the grave. 
LTjito all whom God created, 
He hath clearly demonstrated 

Power from death to save. 

This the blessed sign and token. 
More than all that could be spoken. 

Triumph is complete. 
Who can tell the wondrous story? 
He hath won His greatest glory 

Out of sore defeat. 
Chri.-t is risen! Christ is risen! 
Shout the news to souls in prison. 

All the earth around! 
At the word by joyful fountains, 
And on fruitful vales and mountains, 

Grace and peace abound. 

Xot to us let praise be given, 
But to Him who reigns in heaven. 

On this Easter Day; 
Who a Priest and Prophet gave us, 
And a King from death to save u>, 

And corruption's sway. 



CHASTISEMENT. 

My heart's abode is but a place 
Where sins take root and harden. 

Sharp thorns and thistles fill the space 
Of life's unweeded garden. 

O Lord! remove the noisome weeds- 
Unhealthy source of trouble. 

Plough deeply till the hurt soul bleed>! 
Uproot thou every stubble! 

O, help me not to quail or shrink 

At well earned flagellation! 
While thou art chastening, let me think 

"Tis done for my salvation. 



THREE PORTRAITS. 

I. 

August simplicity and artless grace, 
Balf-shy demeanor and a rosebud 
face; 
No affectation, pride or low deceit 
In her whose huml)le virtues show 
^o sweet. 

Her cordial greeting, tempered with re- 
serve, 
flakes all who meet her straightway 
love and serve. 
Her nature, gentle, and more glad than 
say, 
With quiet sunshine lights her earthly 
wav. 

II. 

Hast thou seen one who comprehends 
her power 
To draw the eyes of all men to herself, 
Like her who lured St. Anthony, in 
that hour 
When devils failed, and each malig- 
nant elf? 
Imperial, haughty, yet bewitching, too, 

As gloriou.- as a leopardess at bay— 
Her stornful favors none can choose 
but woo. 
The beauteous Circe wields her con- 
scious sway. 
Her sis'ter-women wonder at her might. 
See nothing to explain her subtle 
charm ; 
And yet the cynic's bitter sneering 
slight 
With one all-conquering look she can 
disarm. 

III. 

She turned uijon me with a grieved sur^ 
prise, 
To see me turn my mind to baser 
thought. 
Beneath the calm, high brow, her soul- 
ful eyes 
A world of mute, reproachful meaning 
taught. 
For she herself was one who stood alone 
Above the sounding strife of jangling 
creeds. 
Her face, with beauty deeper than its 
own, 
Revealed a holy life of loving deeds. 



SELF-FORGETFUINESS. 

If you should ask me what to most de- 
sire. 
Of all the attributes of holy Love, 
And what would fit you best to dwell 
above, 
I then would answer, that the central 

fire 
Is self-forgetfulness, there's nothing 
higher. 
First conquer self, and, like the 

winged dove, 
Your high-uplifted soul shall soar 
above. 
To where your humble heart did ne'er 
aspire; 
High-circling 'round the glory-covered 
throne. 
With bright-faced seraphim to guard 

you well. 
For you who look beyond from where 
you dwell. 
And strive for others' good, and not 
your own. 
The ?ui-e revvard shall break the clouds 

ere long. 
And joy shall come, too deep for speech 
or song. 



12 



REPRINTED VERSES. 



DREAM OF THE HIGHER LOVE. 

'"Love is strong as death. . . Many 
watersi cannot quench love, neither can 
the floods drown it."— Solomon's Song, 
8:6-7. 

The mystic summer night is softly 

falling, 
And thro' the dusk the clamorous waves 

are calling-— 
Mysterious voices rising from the sea, 
Are calling, love, this night to thee and 

me. 

The long husht gloaming of the sweet 
June weather 

May tempt us hour on hour to sit to- 
gether. 

And watch the moonlit billows climb 
the shore. 

And listen to their never- resting roar. 

Why should we yield to doubts and dim 

forebodings. 
Or fear swift Time's mutations and cor- 

rodings? 
For like this oiean with its world-old 

'Song, 
Our love should be as broad and deep 

and strong. 

"When we shall part, and so lose some 

sweet nearness. 
Love's light is not thereby bereft of 

clearness. 
No absence severs, nothing can eclipse. 
Love needs riot clasping- hands nor 

kissing lips. 

Then lift the veiling lids of eyes made 

tender 
By perfect trust and love's complete 

surrender, 
Alas! how often in the flight of years 
Those fond young eyes shall dim with 

sudden tears. 

How soon this life shall pass with all 
its dreaming. 

Its strange enigmas and iti> unsolved 
seeming-. 

O may we two, thro" all, remain un- 
changed. 

In perfe>.t oneness, nevermore estranged! 

Tho' outward things our thoughts di- 
vert and capture. 

And 'SO deprive us of this present rap- 
ture, 

For not one moment let the thought 
deceive. 

That love is less than what we now be- 
lieve. 

Thro' all the heart's mad longings and 
upheavals — 

Life's toil, storm, darkness and so brief 
reprievals. 

When accidents of sense confuse, ap- 
pall, 

We know that these are naught and 
love is all. 

Let these thoughts keep us constant and 
unbending. 

And steadfast in the hope of joys un- 
ending. 

When we shall break the last entang- 
ling mesh 

That keeps us bound to this frail house 
of flesh. 

For so inadequate all love must be 
Till from our fleshly prisons we are 

free, 
I doubt not, when we lose this body's 

breath, 
We'll triumph in a love more strong 

than death. 



A PORTRAIT. 

No voice is sweeter than her own — 
A low, delicious undertone. 
Her eyes are tender with a smile 
That lingers in them such a while 
When lips have ceased their smiling. 

How can I paint 

This maiden-saint. 
So simple yet beguiling? 

She's not an angel— sweetly human. 
She soon will wake to be a woman — 
But she is true, warm-hearted, loyal. 
And carries with her something royal, 
And yet i.s meek and lowly; 

If knowing well 

I could not tell 
How high she is and holy. 

A simple girl— no more than that. 
Who loves, like other girls, to chat 
With merry friends, and laugh at things 
Which every day'.< new living tarings; 
And yet no queen is higher. 

A maid so pure 

Is sweeter, sure. 
Than one could dare desire. 

She has a touch of girlish pride- 
Can be at pleasure dignified; 
And fairer far than you can guess 
Her winsome, gentle stateliness. 
How- highly ble.-t is he. 

Who comes at last 

To hold her fast— 
Her life-long love to be! 

The mystic light of new-born grace 
Is slowly dawning- in her face. 
From life and love she shrinks afraid; 
For she is but an untried maid, 
Some seventeen or under. 

With sweet surprise 

In tender eye.~ 
Just made for love and wonder. 
She knows so little of this life- 
Its hopes and sorrows, joy and strife! 
For her, unclouded, unconcealed. 
May love's bright sunrise be revealed! 
Like stone born Galatea, 

In half affright 

She greets the sight, 
A? life and love appear. 
She dwells in sweetness, walks in light— 
I show the truth but half aright. 
Forgive these rhymes— I cannot dream 
To fully grasp my lofty theme- 
Forgive my uncouth phrases; 

Be satisfied 

That I have tried 
To sing this maiden'.-^ praises. 



THE UNANSWERED CRY. 

With voices inarticulate. 
We mortals clamor at the blessed gate 
Of higher things. Alas, how much m 
vain! , . , 

Alas, how little of our hopes we gain! 

With kindling eyes we gaze above, 

To the eternities of light and love. 

Are not these aspirations God-im- 
planted? 

Then why are they denied to souls who 
panted— . 

Who dailv, hourly, yearned with bitter 
cry? 

Eternal, all-pervading Spirit, tell us 
why! 

With voices inarticulate. 

We mortals clamor at the blessea gate 

Of higher things. No answer fills the 

Except 'the echoes of our own de.-pair. 



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13 



A LIFE MEDLEY. 

BIRTH. 

A rosy atom 

Sent down to earth 
To learn of sorrow. 

And love and mirth. 
We comprehend not 
His grief or joy, — 
The dimpled morsel, 

The baby-boy. 
Hig life— his future, 

We cannot see; 
We give his keeping 

Our God to Thee! 
O, guide h'6 journey 

Thro' dangers dark! 
And safely harbor 
The storm tossed bark. 
BOYHOOD. 
A pair of eager, laughing e.ve.s, 

Whose owner comes, when tired of 
play, 
Besieging us with questions wise. 
Until we scarce know what to say. 

A pair of sturdy little feet. 

That bravely trudge each morn to 
school. 
Or patter thro' the clover sweet, 

And dabble in the wayside pool. 

There is no being on the earth 
Who feels so pure and free a joy, 

As he, the chosen child of mirth. 
The mischief-loving, healthy boy. 

YOUTH. 

The great, glad, beautiful earth is mine! 

I am Beauty's priest. 
In a house of honey and coin and wine 

I am. called to the feast. 

For I long to live and to love, and to feel 

That life is strong. 
I will raise glad cries, till the heavens 
peal 

With the sound of song. 

I will clothe me in armor, and join in 
the fray. 

Thro' the smoke and flame. 
Tiil I win rne a stainless crown of bay. 

And a deathless fame. 

I will cling to the lofty and high and 
pure, 
Nor from truth depart: 
God grant me the .strength to with.-^tand, 
to endure. 
With a steadfast heart! 

THE DREAM LOVE. 

She is waiting somewhere, unknown, 

unseen — 
My beautiful darling, my stately Queen. 
Some day I will build her a lofty throne, 
And proudly claim her, my bride, my 

own. 

We shall know each other when first we 

meet. 
Our heart.g shall be kindled when fl'rst 

we greet. 
With trembling fervor our sou's shall 

know 
The bond that binds us — the love we owe. 

May the years haiste onward, and bring 

the day 
When she shall consent to Ije mine al- 

way. 
When out of our darkness we both shau 

rise, 
To dwell forever in Paradise. 

She is waiting so.mewhcre, unknown, 

unseen,— 
My beautiful darling, my stately Queen, 
Some day I will build her a lofty throne. 
And proudly claim hei-, — m.v bride, my 

own. 



MANHOOD. 

"Nature might stand up 
And say to all the world, "This was a 
man !" 

—Julius Cse«sar V. IV". 
How few of those bright rosy dreams 
So fondly cherished in my youth,— 
How few of those celestial gleams 

Of honor, purity and truth 
Are left to light my later day; 

And yet the fault is half my own. 
For I have often turned away 
My fickle eyes from Love's high throne. 

Why should I mourn in bootless ruth, 

That men have passed me coldly by, — 
That few have heard my word of truth, 

Anc"i all have chiefly loved the lie'.' 
My weakest word, if" true and pure, 

Tho' now despised with scornful jeers, 
Shall grow and flourish and endure. 

Triumphant over Time's brief years. 

Then courage, soul! press" bravely on. 

With eyes uplifted to the light! 
For glorious battles may be won 

Between the noontide and the night; 
And mighty strokes may yet be given 

For Justice, Liberty and Peace. 
Tho' men revile, the smiles of Heaven 

Shall recompense with rich increase. 

May I be led from low to high, 
And purgeci from every grosser thingi 

My voice is but a feeble cry, 
Yet hear me, O my Lord and King! 

shelter me from sin and pain; 
Uplift and cheer and cleanse and bless. 

Till by Thy grace I shall attain. 
The .stature of true manliness. 

THE IDEAL REALIZED. 

"There are none like her— none." 
-Tennyson's Maud. 
In all the earth there are none above. 
There are none to compare with r.er 1 

love. 
Like the lilies that grow by the garden 

wall. — 
Slender and stately, fair and tall. 
Which' even the bold wide-roving bee 
Dares' not approach in their chastity. 
As pure and as proud is tiie girlish 

Queen, — 
The wonderful maiden that I mean. 

She does not dream, she may neiver 

know 
That my tongue has dared to praise her 

so; 
And indeed it is true I can have ro 

right 
To love as I do this child of light. 

1 said she was' proud, and she is, but yet 
As modest and meeik as the violet; 

And Kihy as the d-iiisy, though born a. 

Queen,— 
'T'his wonderful maiden that I mean. 

In the future perhaps, some golden day, 
A youth, more fortunate, gallant and 

gay. 
Than one who is poor and sad like me 
Can eiver pretend or hope to be. 
May make her his own, andi I shall say 
"God bl?ss them upon their happy way''' 
For I am nor worthy to win this 

Queen, — 
This wonderful maiden that I mean. 

THE HIDDEN LIFE. 

"For ve are dead, and jour life is hid 

with Christ in God."— Col. Ill, .3. 
Weary, and sick at heart, 

I strive no more for famei. 
But seek tri dwell with God apart. 

Unheeding praise or blame. 
Hidden with Christ in God I would tor- 

eveE;be,— 
F^orever Ihtdden Lord, with Christ in 
thee! 



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Sheltered from earthly woeg 

By freely-granr.ed grace. 
There's sweet, secure and calm repose 

In such a hiding-place. 
Hidden with Christ in God I would for- 
ever be,— 
Forev€<r hidden Lord, with Christ in 
thee! 

Hidden from storms without. 
And fiercer storms within,' 
From every fear and grief and d'oubt, 

From pain and death and sin: 
Hidden wUh Christ in God I would for- 
ever be — 
Forever hidden. Lord, with Christ in 
theie ! 

LOA'E'S FULFILMENT. 

"I waste my hear: in signs: let be. My 
bride, 

My life, my wife. O we will walk this 
world 

Yoked in all exercise of noble end, 

Andl so thro' t'ho«3 dark gates across the 
wild 

That no man knows: indeed I love thee; 
come, 

Yield thyself up: my hopes and thine 
are one; 

Accomplish thou mv maniiood and thy- 
self; 

Lay thy sweet hands in mine nnd trust 
in me." 

[Tennyson's Princess. 

O best beloved, can I half eixpress 
How little I deserve this happiness! 
Since first I wakened to behold the light 
Of thy sweet eyes, and bowed to the'ir 

dear might, 
Mv hopes have never soared so high as 

this; 
But now I claim thee with a holy kiss. 
And' we are one forever. O my bride. 
If Love be with us. who is the're beside 
That can moles; us? Even time and 

death, 
■U^hich rob the form of beauty and of 

breath. 
Are easy victims to the sword of Love. 
He is our guest, and yet is thron'd 

above' 
He was and is all-conquering,— since the 

first 
When from chaotic slumber. Being burst 
At his command, and each remotest sun 
Its light and motion at his word begun 
And unto this glad hour,— when you andi 

I 
Have felt his power, which lives and 
cannot die. 
But need we look so high? Each fond 
embrace 
Is no less surely liove's own dwelling- 
place; 
A'nd every sacred t'e around tis throwri,. 
Has led us nearer to the Love Un- 
known. 
Our lofty passion cannot know deceit; 
But crushing low desires beneath our 

feet. 
We stand in Love's own likeness, pure 

and free. 
So are wj, bound, andi so we wish to^ be. 
When' first my s;jiri; thrilled beneath 
thy gaze 
My heart wasi mourning over waste 1 

days. 
I felt that I had drained the wine of iii'e. 
And all my future frowned with shad- 
ows rife. 
I came to thee unworthy and undone; 
Yet woman gives but once., and but to 

one. 
The loo'k that thou bast once bestowed 

on me 
In gracious answer to my humble plea. 
My love has found fulfillment- word? 

are weak. 
Let silfncei tell the rest.— I will not 
speak. 



OLD AGE. 

"It is time to be old— to take in sail." 
— Emerson. 

Now life's brief span is eirawing to its 

close. 
My step, elastic once, more feebly goes 
'Thro' all the. dear and long-accus.omed 

ways ; 
For I am old and gray and full of days 
How stra-nge to think that death is very 

near, — 
The 'time so short that I must linger 

here. 
I see but dimly each familiar sight. 
Dark shadows herald the approach of 

night. 
But on my spirit as ihe shades' increiasf', 
There fallsi the calm of an exceeding 
peace. 
My past with all its .ioys and sorrows, 
see'ms 
As strange as actions we have done in 

dreams'. 
Like distant woodiands in thei autumn 

days. 
Which loom n.a.1es'tic thro' the golden 

h'aze 
That up the purine headland curls anl 

creeps. 
Till form is lost in color, craggy steeps 
Their rugged outlines lose and "seem to 

rest 
Like giants sleeping on the vale's calm 
While thro' th' nellow distance faintl.y 
breast, 
borne, 
We hear the nunter lilithely wind his 

horn, 
.\nd merry farmers, singing as they 

reap. 
And odors float from poppied fields of 

sleep- 
So all my life before m.e seems to rise. 
While I await the life that satisfies. 
For I am still sustained bv that dear 

Hand 
Which led me from the first. I under- 
stand 
But little wisdom, save that God is 

Love ; 
And what hav^e I to fear, when One 

above 
With more than human vearning loves 

his child? 
Yes, he shall ^-urely lead me thro' the 

wild 
And gloomv vale of death, to be with 

Him, 
Where never grief assails, nor eyes are 

diim 
WMt'h bitter tears. For He shall wipe 

away 
Theiir last sad trace, and liright eternal 

day 
Shall dawn upon us,— .ioy shall never 

cease, 
And over all shall brood eternal peace. 

DEATH. 

A hushed and darkened room, whence 

life hath fled.— 
A cold, still form upon the curtained 

bed. 
That sirangei dread messenger has come 

at last. 
Whose victim, like a flower in Autumn's 

blast. 
Falls prostrate into daist and vile decay. 
All yield to Death and none Ijefore him 

stav. 
Last night the awe-struck chikire'n 

gathered here, — 
Ai hurried summons bade them all ap- 
pear. 
The anguish-stricken wife, now old anci 

gray. 
His life-tide watciing as it ebbed away, 



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15 



Beheld' the ghastly change in that pale 

face, 
Whoss memory, seen but once', none may 
erase. 
And bro'nzcid and stalwart sons and 
daughters fair 
As that fair bride he won were gathered 

th'fire. 
With tearful kiss and agonized fareiwell 
rr'hev waic'hed his lif? its last low 
"breathing tell. 
'Mysterious Death! We strain our 
eager eyes. 
And strive to solve our fears with vain 

surmise. 
But O how littlti all our knowledge 

teils 
Of shadowy spaces where the spirit 
dwells!" 
But there's a story— many centuries 
old, 
And manv many :imes it has tie en 

told— 
Of how a certain Ijazarus was dead, 
An(j Jesus' came to Bethany and said 
To Martha in that houst' with anguish 

rife, 
"I am the Resurrection and the Life. 
The Man of Sorrows" lowly-spoken 

word' 
Has thundered down the ages, and is 

heard 
In solemn joy tEach human race among. 
And echoed back in every human 
tongue. 
Again, again, I hear the message 
stro'ng-. 
In :rumpet-tontis divinely loud and long. 
Transcendent over pain, and grief au'j' 

strife, 
"I am the- Resurrection and the Life." 



A DREAM OF LIFE. 

L'pou a duy which was or might have 

been, — 
But when I scarcely know, for all seems 

vague — 
Deep sleep did fall upon my weary 

limbs, 
A respite' from this troublous life oi 

mine': 
And, sleeping thus. I dreamed a certain 

d'^eam, 
Whicn I will here relate as best I may. 



All things which might annoy seemed 

far removed: 
I neither stood nor moved but only lived: 
I felt mv-self a spirit, wrapt around 
By God'.s Eternal Silence deep and calm: 
But tho' deprived of hearing and of 

' sight, 
Mv soul was all alive to each event,— 
All things by inner consciousness dis- 

ce'rred. 
Without the. aid of sense or active 
thought. 
And first t^iere came a lig'ht so strange 
and strong, , , , ■ i 

The mid-day sun in .shame would hide 

his ravs. 
Nor dare a moment to be called its rival. 
At tirf t I trembled in exceeding fear, 
Bu+ after wept with joy ineffable. 
And cried "Shine on, O glor:ous light 
of God! . , « , 

Thro' an things still m-aintam that flood 

of glory. . 

Shine -on! forevei' ishine,- O glorious 
light!" 
Whose rays indeed grew brighter at 
mv words. 
No objE'Ct interposed to give reflection. 
Nor did the light from any centre flow— 
ITnbounded sPace with light self-lumi- 
nous. . ^ , 
Bespoke the presence of the Living God. 



So bright at last my spirit-dream be- 

cam.e, 
I felt that S'hade and sin were quite de- 
stroyed, 
And knew God's conquest was indeed 
corr.Dlete. 
And then, with ravished ear, my spirit 
caught 
The first sweet cadence of thei Great 

New S'ong. 
At first a faint, low strain of sweet sub- 

niission. 
Till raptured ranks O'f dazzling sera- 

l-'him 
With harps and loud hosannas swell the 

sound,- 
Then rolling louder thro' the firma- 
ment. 
In boundless' ecstasy of exultation, 
Thti long reverberations, upward ring- 
ing'. 
At iBst did shake the very throne^ ot 
God. 
And then a voice, like noise ot many 
waters, , 

Yet filled with such a tenderness fl^id 

love. 
That feeble tongue of man can nt. or 

express 
The j'oy derived from listening to its 

Was heard above the great triumphal 
song. 

Si. caking foregiveness of our past trans- 
gressions'. 

And 'earnest pleading for the worlci s re- 
pentance. ^ , ■ 
'found on!" cried I, "O glorious an- 
them sound! 

Lpt everv angel-trumpet louder blow. 

And ail 'the hearts of men with raptu- 
rous echo . , 

Shout back the praises of Almighty God. 

O Fcwc-r omnipotent, august, suprem'ei. 
That voice 'Of ttMn'e my the'art nas 
heard, alas. 

How many times unheeded: yet tauu 

With thine abundant mercy kept niy 

And "^tiil' dost keep me, eve^n thro' the 

'"hii^"'^ighty soing O'f praise had 
scarcely ceased. 
When 10. I recognized a nearer p^^^- 

And "even He who died th'at we. mUhC 

Who\x.t"e his heavy weight of scorn and 

\nd ^^wh^n the thoughtless rabble 

mocked him. dying. 
WUU earnestness still prayed toi tn :' 

Yea ^even'ne^^th'e son of God and man. 
Was present with me. wearing on hib 

■The ^ame sharp crown of thorns worn 

Ard^'uTen I saw a multitude of angels. 

Who casting clown their golden cro'wns 

before , , . . „.;.u 

His blessed feet, filled all the au wuh 

'•O .MlsTfr!" then I cried. "I am not 

To b.^beSde thee thus!" and T fell down 
And wo'rship'ed bim, and cried O Lord. 

How'^^often'^'have I thy commandments 

How"omn''have. I thy dear name re- 

B^ meciml!" I cried, and' hid my face^ 
Ami then, with eyes of he.avealy Pity 

I'poifmy" wretched state, he raised me 



And "gently said, "Thy sins indeed are 
many. 



in 



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But ny strong love shall fi-eely gran: 
fcrgiveo'ess." 
Then orce again my vision clianged its 
gi-.ise, 

Aiifi silence reigned thro' all the courts 
'Of heaven, 

Till cr. my consciousnes'S. thro' love-lit 
s'ljace., 

Descends the third and latest heavenly 
vision. 
T'U'at in'n.-ite sense of Deity, of will su- 
preme, 

Whicii even brutes, methinks, at times 
must feel, — 

Thar n&mtile.^s Spirit all have &ougnt to 
no. me, 

The urknown centre of immensity, 

Athene. Allah. Buddha, Jove or God. — 

What matter names? man always feels 
his might, — 

That Presence found and took me, in 
mi dream. 
Spirit of God! if in my waking hours 

Thou oouldst with such a. holy, living- 
flame 

As burned within met in that blissful 
dream 

Erkir.dle this forlorn and icy bosom,— 

Then would my muse no longer limp and 
halt 

Nor would I swerve or carei for praise 
or blame, 

But oniy wishing, in my Master's serv- 
ice. 

To crusli the error and uproot the lie, 

If thy strong spirit shouldst with me 
abiditt. 

Then miglit I Hnd my willing loss was 
grain. 

Then might mv soul in death itself find 
1110. 

And victory in what men call defeat. 
That spirit mine absorbed and gov- 
erned wholly. 

Till I exclaimed "This, then, indeed is 
Life: 

The heiavenly life, for whicli my soul 
has panted. 

When locked within the dungeons of 
despair. 

When all alone with sin and self-indul- 
gence 

I yet hav'e caught, beyondi my prison 
bars. 

Some glimipses of this blessed Paradis-e, 

And, even then, liavei dared to hope it 
mine." 
Spirit of God, leave not our hearts in 
darkness! 

Enter thou in,' w--> open wide thei door! 

Give to the darlr<"ied temple Light and 
Life! 

PEAISE. 

Strike ye the cymbal, the harp and the 
Ivre 
Vnto the Father who calls us His 
own! 
Join in the anthem attuned by the 
choir — 
Rapturous thousands surrounding 
His throne. 

Honor and wisdom and glory and 
power 
Ever accord to the Lamb that was 
slain; 
While in expectance awaiting the hour. 
When in His glory He cometh to 
reign. 

O what a wonderful Savior and Lover! 
Who for our ransom has suffered 
and died. 
Graciously over us all doth he hover: 
Tenderly holdeth the bridegroom His 
bride. 



Then, at the last, let Ug sing to the 
Spirit- 
Praise to the power of God in the 
heart! 
Let us acknowledge His glory and 
merit. 
Pray that His presence may never de- 
part. 

Sing the loud praises! O swell ye the 
choru.- ! 
I"p from the hills where His footsteps 
have trod, 
Sound the deep organ, with accents so- 
norous, 
L'nto the one indivisible God. 



WHAT IS LOVE? 

What is Love? can any one tell? 

Who is its owner? iwhere does it dwell? 

In the sweet shy glance of a maiden's 
eyes, 

When she wakes at lai-t, with a glad 
surprise, 

To lyife's 'best, highesd, holiest thing? 

When she knows With joy she has found 
her king. 

Yet keep the thought well-hid a.s it 
grows. 

Like the deep red heai't of a Ijudded 
rose? 

Or perhaps you think Love's dwelling- 
lies 

In the lover's thoughts and smiles and 
sighs. 

Or is it the mother-love, infinite, deep. 

When she watche.? her babe as it lies 
asleep? 

For time cannot alter or take away 

That love, twhich the child cannot half 
repay. 

In any of these Is Love concealed. 

In its fullness here unto man revealed? 

Nay, these are but shadows, and in- 
complete; 

Tho' life's best gifts— i-no.-t high and 
sweet. 

They change and pass and are but for 
a day. 

And then like a vision they vanish 
away. 

Then what is love? can any one tell? 

Who is' its O'wner? where does It dwell? 

You may search the earth and the track- 
la- s air. 

And you will not find it anywhere; 

Till upon your spirit the thought shall 
burst. 

Which should have been plain from the 
very firslt. 

Lay the books of learning- upon the 
shelf; 

Know that Love is of God— is God him- 
self! 



CRADLE SONG. 

High and low, 

Sw inging so. 
Do not fret Tior s'g'h. 

Here we go. 

To and fro 
Bye-low, baby, bye. 

Night is here. 

Baby dear. 
Do no': stir nor cry. 

Naught to fear. 

Mother's near. 
Bye-low. baby, bye. 

Shadows creep, 

God will keep. 
He is always nigh. 

Go to sleep. 

Do not weep. 
Bye-low, baby, bye. 



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17 



THE STORM. 

It had been threatenins' all the sullen 

day. 
The shoreward-scudding- clouds above 

the bay, 
The many sea-birds close along the 

beach, 
Low-ftying here and there with piercing 

screech, 
The strange gray darkne-s, grim, and 

wan, and weird, 
Which made men creep about as it' 

they feared 
The day of doom— the sea's portentous 

moan. 
All told of storm; and when the da.\' 

w'as' done. 
As if in moikery, the setting sun 
Shone out with such a pale and watery 

gleam, 
The sunset only seemed a dreadful 

dream, 
And not that gentle change to twilight- 
calm 
Which falls upon the spirit like a psalm. 
There was no twilight: heaven down- 
ward hurled 
And piled and poured thick darkness on 

the world; 
And then, in awful majesty and mignt. 
The tempest broke, loud howling down 

the night. 
O fair, proud barque, that sailed at 

morn full freighted. 
This night, this dreadful night, thy 

doom is fated! 
And tossed between the waters and the 

cloud?. 
With stark men clinging to thy frozen 

shrouds. 
Thy tortured hull shall tug, and writhe, 

and groan. 
Till hungry waters claim thee for their 

own ; 
And many a loving wife, or gentle maid. 
Of husband's, sweetheart's peril sore 

afraid. 
With white, drawn face, wild eyes, and 

wringing hands. 
This night stand.s trembling on the 

beaten sands; 
And all along the cliffs of wild Cape 

Ann 
They cry "O God, bring safe my fish- 
erman!" 
And winds, and mighty waves in thun- 
derous roar 
But seem to answer loudly, "Never- 
more." 
From murky strongholds of the warring 

east 
The loosened storm comes tearing, like 

a bea.st 
Escaped his keepers, broken from his 

cage. 
With glaring eyes and howls of savage 

rage: 
So strides the storm maje.-tic from his 

lair. 
Till tumult, clamor, chaos All the air. 
And this wide sea, which only yester- 
day, 
Could croon low lullabys in soothing 

way, 
And hush its song to notes so gentlj' 

mild. 
They seemed God'^; whisper unto man. 

his child. 
Has now grown terrible; and deep to 

deep 
Is loudly calling. Not one craggy steep 
Along these shores, but echoes to the 

crash 
Of ponderous billows that against it 

dash; 
Each rolling wave, in new, tremendous 

birth. 
A whelming giant, fit to engulf the 

earth; 



And every torrent breaking on the 
shore. 

Far inland sends its long, resounding 
roar. 

This night how many eyes are made to 
weep 

For loved ones on the dark and cruel 
deep; 

And yet, O Tempest, there is that in 
thee 

Which finds ^xultant sympathy in me! 

Rage on, strong energies! nor be al- 
layed. 

Let power and majesty be still dis- 
played! 

And let the tempest-trumpets louder 
sound, 

Fntil their blaring shakes the sold 
ground. 

Their wrath may figure, though it 
faintly can. 

The stormy passions in the soul of 
man. 



THE ABIDING TRUTH. 

The maze where logicians 

Strive in vain to advance, 
A child's intuitions 

May pierce at a glance. 

What are books, school and college 

But perplexity shown? 
And man's highest knowledge 

But ignorance known? 

By myst'ry surrounded 

How dimly we gaze! 
Like the deep seas unsounded 

Are all of God's ways! 

He who arrogates learning, 

Filled with foolish conceit. 
Shall fail in discerning 

What makes the rose sweet. 

Yet with mighty persistence, 

Tho' in darkness we grope, 
Of God's love and existence 

Comes the knowledge and hope. 

He who strives to deny it 

Is but self-deceived; 
Man is held and led by it. 

It must be believed. 

Of all that we cherish. 

This truth is most sure. 
Books, creeds, nations perish, 

But .this shall endure. 

(*^. 

SONNET. 

Such perfect loyalty is in those eyes! 
The dear, true eyes, that know not 

how' to swerve 
From firmest faithfulness! Who would 
not serve. 
With reverent love and willing sac- 
rifice 
And all pure ardor that within him 
lies. 
This noblest woman? and, tho' every 

nerve 
Be keenly passion-thrilled by beauty's 
curve 
Or tender line— the rich, warm wo- 
man-guise, 

These outward charms, so plain for 

all to see. 
Reveal that higher, holier charm to 
me — 
Her spirit-beauty and the soul's pure 

^race. 
Trans'cending all that's fair in form 
and face. 
Her lover from regret could not be 
free. 
To find his love, compared with hers, so 
base. 



18 



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WHEN I DIE. 

When I draw my last breath. 

And the angel of death 

Calls my spirit away 

From its poor house of clay. 

And iDreaks the last mesh 

That entangles with flesh — 

O, will there be any. 

Will a few from the many. 

Who love too well to doubt me, 

Be gathered about me? 

Will they come to me there?— 

Will any otie care? 

:\Iy work is so ^mall 
When I do work at all I 
At each round of the sun 
Leaving so much undone — 
Dreaming all the day long. 
Doing little but wrong- 
When I die will some live 
Who have strength to forgive? 
When the agonized gasp 
Tells of death's certain grasp — 
W^ith a love rich and rare 
Will any one care? 

It may be, I know not— 

But it may be I go not 

For many long years. 

But I hope that fond tears 

May above me be shed. 

When upon my death-bed. 

When the clay and the clover 

Shall cover me over. 

When the last rites are said 

O'er the form newly dead, 

W'ill ;obs fill the air? 

Will any one care? 

Though I little deserve 
And from right often swerve. 
Though ill-fashioned enough- 
Made of imperfect stuff, 
1 cherish hope still. 
That perhaps some one will 
Ijove much, spite of all — 
Ever fond, though I fall. 
And if this be denied. 
There is one thing beside— 
When I breathe my last prayer, 
I am sure God will care. 



EASTER HYMN. 

From Calvary's hi!l. enwrapt in gloom, 

They bore the bleeding clay: 
And there in Joseph's new-made tomb 

They laid our Lord away. 
But when the mourning Women came 

To find Him where He . lept. 
One clothed in brig'nitness and in flame 

Before their vision stept. 

Who said, "Beho'.d. He is not here. 

But risen: look and seel" 
And they were much amazed with fear 

That such a thing could be. 

NoiW God be praised that unto us 
Was. shown H;.- power to save- 
That He has manifested thus 
His conquesit o'er the grave. 

Restore our spirits dead in sin I 
Bring life and make us free! 

Till we are cleansed from death Within, 
Xew-ri. en. Lord, like Thee. 

And our prophetic eyes behold, 

This blessed Easter Day, 
The time when all, subdued, controlled. 

Shall own the Savior's sway; 

When every stubborn knee shall bow. 

And every rebel fall — 
His grace receive, His love allow. 

Till Christ 11- all in all. 



Behold the world transformed, re- 
deemed. 

Through Him, the crucified. 
Forgetting not the blood that streamed 

When on the cross He died. 

The tidings spread o'er hill and plain, 

Proclaim it far abroad: 
And tell of Him who comes to reign — 

Incarnate Son of God! 

"The Resurrection and the Life 
Am I," the Lord hath said. 

Bc'hold Him winning peace fi-om strife, 
And risen from the dead. 

With willing hearts w'e bow the knee. 

And hail the rii-en King. 
O grave, where is thy victory I 

O death, where is thy stingl 



UNRECOGNIZED. 

Tne wood bird wings hi- fliglit from 

tree to tree, 
A merry minstrel in his untam'd glee. 
His heart has felt the universal thrill 
Of nature's loveliness, and with sweet 

trill 
And full rich floods of wild, exultant 

song 
He Alls the groves, not knowing grief or 

wrong. 
A poet said, "Would I were such as he. 
By griefs unljurdened, and froiii care 

as free! 

"For now I faint along the weary road, 
I sink and fall beneath the heavy load. 
The grinding toil of my alloled task — 
Who knows its bitterness? who cares 

to ask? 
^ly patient part has somehow harder 

grown, 
I feel at times >r. utterly alone. 
The heavy .-orrows I am doomed to see — 
What are they all to any one but me? 

"Thus when to friendship's joys I fain 

would turn. 
For human sympathy I madly yearn. 
And vainly wait for one who does not 

come, 
To whom m>' heart may speak and not 

be dumb. 
So ebbs and flows my pain, and so 

am I 
But sounding forth a harsii and bitter 

cry 
Instead of that sweet song whi.h -hould 

be mine — 
A full, glad carol, strong, serene, di- 
vine." 

So moaned this poet, till his plaint was 

hushed: 
His songs and something of his life 

were crushed. 
At menial toil he labored year by year, 
I'nknown, unloved, unhonored, far or 

near. 
Perhap- 'twas well— he was so poor and 

weak, 
Yet if his secret word were mine to 

speak. 
A song should rise as high as any bird, 
And bless the world wherever it was 

heard. 

But ah! he is not with us: 'neath yon 

tree. 
That spreads its aged boughs above the 

lea. 
There is a little plot of grassy ground. 
And in the midst an unrememberod 

mound. 
Where lies his form, to whom God said 

"Be free!" 
And then led forth, through death, to 

victory. 
At last behold t'ne weary toller blest 
In having found this much desired rest. 



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19 



SONNETS. 



AT TIMES ONLY. 

Lord! I more than all deserve to die, 
Of those who o-in and sinful ways do 

know, 
Yet, O at times my heart doth greater 

grow! 
And, tho' the lowest of my kind am I, 
At times my soul doth rise to meet the 

sky. 
At times I leave my sins and purpose 

low; 

1 see Thy light that makes the hilltops 

glow, 
And Thine Almightine.ss doth hover 

nigh. 
Perpetual light thou dost around me 

cast. 
Yet oft my wilful spirit turns away 
From Him who ever watches from 

above; 
But tho' at times, the sorrows gather 

fast, 
A flood of shining light attends my way. 
And fills my heart, like thoughts of 

one I love. 



BETTER THAN FAME. 

If thou canst praise my work and say 
"Well done," 

Then I am well content to bear the 
scorn, 

The taunts, reproaches, of the lesser 
born. 

That mock my labors as the seasons 
run. 

If thou, beloved, blessed, like the sun. 

If thou, with gaze as bright as deep- 
eyed morn, 

Shall be beside me while the burden's 
borne — 

I'll eare not for the world, if thou art 
won. 

Thou.sfh mighty mountains find a swift 
removal, 

And all the earth, from pole to pole, is 
rent, 

And awful thunders smite the firma- 
ment — 

If thy beloved eyes shall speak ap- 
proval. 

Full calm, unheeding, shall I stand in- 
tent, 

With joyful eyes upon thy features 
bent. 



TO LIBERTY. 

O thou serene and never-conqufcred one! 

I see thee pausing on the golden stair 

Of ages past and present, round they 

hair 

A crimson aureole, brighter than the 

sun. 
An.i we, who long to see the. time beigun 
When thou shalt reign in very truth, 

nor share 
With meaner ones tliy wide world- 
kingdom fair, 
May rest assured thy will shall yet be 
done. 

For when w'e almost fear her sleep is 
death, 
Wlien we ai'e tyrant-goaded to de- 
spair,— 

Then like a tropic tempest, in whose 
breath 
Gfpression's thrones are scattered in 
the air, 

Divinest Libe^rty. with wings unfurled. 

Shall strike the" Fihackl?s from a groan- 
ing world. 



TWO ROYAL MONTHS. 

MAY. 

Fleecy clouds, w'ith rifts of blue. 
And the bright sun peering through; 
All the earth is very glad; 
How could any one be sad? 
Hillsides growing richly green. 
Meadows waking, in between; 
Oh, tHe blessed, blessed birth 
Of the new-created earth! 

All our sorrow now is flown: 
May has come to claim .her throne. 
She, as pure as any child. 
Yet so frolicsome and wild. 
Careless of her right to reign. 
Only longs to stay our pain. 
So slie whispers in our ears 
Fondest comfort— dries our tears — 
Loves us truly; tell me, then. 
Who . ould fail to love again? 

Just a graceful, laughing girl, 
Cheeks aglow' and hair a-curl; 
Young and fair and tender-eyed. 
Tripping down the mountain-side. 
How the sluggish clods of earth 
Bloom and quicken at her mirth; 
And the rare arbutus flowers 
Comfort all the woodland bovvers. 

Then the shy anemone, 

Pale and very fair to see, 

Peeps from out the mo.-sy dells. 

By the clear spring's bubbling wells. 

Odorous violets, fair and fine, 

And the nodding columbine 

All appear, in sw-eet arra.y, 

At thy coming, beauteous May! 

JUNE. 

Seek ye the bosky thicket's leafy 
screen, 

"Where, crowned with bay, she reigns, 
imperial queen. 

Read the rich meaning in her glorious 
eyes, 

Li.-t to the musi- of her low replies: 

Leave the dull toils of life, no longer 
pore 

Over the ponderous tomes of musty 
lore. 

Come! 'tis the mouth of love! with mel- 
low rune 

The tree-harps call thee; come, for it is 
June. 

Close by the gnarled roots of some old 
tree, 

Where nymph and dryad used to frolio 
free. 

The whole wood glowing with her pres- 
ence here, 

Stands the proud queen of all the con- 
quered year. 

Whether love's ihoney-sweets or bitter 
rue 

Our lips have tasted, still with homage 
due. 

While birds and brooks and leaves are 
all in tune. 

We come to crown thee queen, imperial 
June! 

Poor is the figure, for this royal time 
Of leaf and Ijlossom. List, the muslc'o 

chime, 
^A'hen all the trees look up and clap 

their hands. 
And Summer smiles along the level 

lands. 
Sight, sound and odor, all are blending 

sweet — 
Beauty supreme and harmony complete. 
All tlVe wide earth unites in these fair 

days. 
To show God's glory and pro.laim ins 

praise. 



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A FOREST MEDITATION. 

There is a covert hid in yonder wood— 
A charming- nook, a place to muse and 

brood 
On lofty themes, forgetting cares of 

earth; 
Or pass the hours in simple, sylvan 

mirth. 
In sportive fancies, gay yet innocent. 
And all pure forms of woodland merri- 
ment. 
To such q spot old Pan himself might 

stray, 
And at the close of some long summer's 

day. 
When twilight's roseate hush is over 

all. 
And while a benediction seems to fall 
Upon the broad fair earth— if quite 

alone. 
Reclining on a shaded mossy stone. 
Perchance the wood-god then might 

even deign 
To sound his storied pipe; nor deem it 

vain 
For such a scene, to pour his sweetest 

note 
From out the hollow reed's melodious 

throat. 
And well it might in.'^pire a sylvan god. 
When even I, a hampered, mortal clod. 
Am stirred and quickened;- yes, and 

lifted high 
Above the streaming throngs that hurrv 

by 
With jostling feet, and have not any 

rest — 
Who, seizing life's poor chaff, reject 

the best. 
I. too. have joined those ranks, I know 

theijr. pain. 
Their false and empty joys, their long- 
ings vain; 
But O, thank God I I can escape awhile. 
And find in Nature's calm and radiant 

smile 
Some type of Nature's God. The wood- 
land bowers. 
The most familiar little weeds and 

flowers. 
The simple beauty of the pale wild i-ose. 
That almost thankless by the road- 
side grows — 
Yea. all the rich completions Nature 

yields. 
To crown with glory hill- and woods 

and fields. 
Have lost no rharm. have not withheld 

their light. 
And never will, methinks, desert me 

quite. 
I know I am not, never have been loyal 
To Nature's teachings, calm and free 

and royal: 
I know my stubborn lips have oft been 

mute, 
My trembling hands refused to strike 

the lute. 
When it was due that they should 

bravely win 
Some melody from life's discordant din. 
But O, divine.?t Poesy, return! 
At my heart's altar still thy tapers 

burn. 
Once more, once more, my soul, on 

wings ethereal. 
All undismayed resume thy flight 

aerial! 
If not in skyey realms, borne far aloft. 
Then let me sing of forest, field and 

croft, 
And muse as best I may on scenes like 

this. 
When woods blush warm at sunset's 

parting kiss. 
The last ray gleams on tree tops, gently 

stirred 
By evening's earliest breeze; the clois- 
tered bird 



From out his hidden thicket, deep and 

dim. 
Trills forth, with quiet note, a tranquil 

hymn ; 
Then, one by one, the solemn stars 

look down: 
The sound of bells floats faintly from 

the town: 
And wandering home beneath the dewy 

boughs, 
I find myself renewing worthy vows. 
Till, new-baptized with old poetic fire, 
I waken once again to high desire. 



SPANISH LOVE SONG. 

O do not come with money. 

Or gold from foreign ships. 
And think to taste the honey 

Of her delicious lips. 
For she is mine forever! 

Forever, only mine! 
And there is naught can sever 

The bond of love divine. 

For when, to woo the maiden, 

A foreign cavalier 
Came deked and jewel-laden. 

She laughed and would not hear. 
Tho' such a lord of fashion 

Brought love and treasure both. 
He could not stir her passion. 

Nor shake her plighted troth. 

This charming senorita 

Has such surpassing grace. 
That all adore who meet her 

That wondrous form and face. 
How plain are all fair ladies 

Beside my fairest one! 
And boasted belles of Cadiz 

Like stars be.-ide the sun! 

The shining Guadalquiver 

Goes dancing to the sea. 
And there, beside the river, 

Our happy home shall be. 
Beneath the bright sun's kisses, . 

Where oli\e orchards smile. 
We'll share our wedded blisses 

And fleeting hours beguile. 

Then do not come with money, 

Or gold from foreign ships] 
And think to taste the honey 

Of lier delicious lips. 
For she is mine forever! 

Forever, only mine! 
And there is naught can sever 

The bond of love divine. 



NIGHT. 

The solemn Night sits brooding on the 

hills, 
Her very sorrow brings surcease of 

pain: 
For Night's a queen. v\'!io wishes not to 

reign. 
Her sympathetic heart now throbs and 

thrills. 
And yearning over human woes and ills, 
She longs to die that day may come 

again. 
She sprinkles with her tears the thirsty 

plain. 
But still a holy peace her spirit fills. 
E'en so, methinks, the solemn night of 

death 
Shall find me all impatient of delay 
To start upon the strange, uncertain 

wa.v: 
And then, when 1 shall cease this weary 

breath, 
Through darkness black shall fall a 

piercing ray. 
And Night be changed to Fverlasting 

Day. 



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21 



THE DEAD SUN. 



tlu 



clamorint 



"The Sun is dead I 
shadow's cried. 
"The Sun, the mighty Sun, at last is 

dead. 
His grave is where yon w'estern sky 
is red. 
With funeral fires, to show us where he 

died. 
Weep tho' ye may, the Day has lost his 
pride. 
For he, the Eye of Day, at la^t is 

dead. 
And slumbrous: Shade shall rule the 
world instead." 
"Nay, doubters! hush! my steadfast 
faith replied: 
"His swift returning light shall yet 
adorn 
These Waiting forests, mountains, hills 

and streams; 
And, bathed beneath the splendor of his 
beams. 
The rosy mountain-toi>s shall greet 
the morn. 
Then once again the earth rejoicing- 
seems, 
And even fairer than our fairest 
dreams." 

And, even so, when living men must 
die- 
When souls at last shall reach our 

short life-bound. 
And hasten on to meet the dark pro- 
found. 
And clamorous shadows all al)out us 

cry. 
Our faith may meet the dark with 
piercing eye; 
Not full of fear and grovelling on the 

ground. 
But with cele-tial calmness girt 
around. 
For wise men know we cannot truly 
die; 
But, like the setting sun, which doth 

return, 
And with his pristine splendor brightly 
burn. 
So from his fall the soul of man shall 

rise. 
And seek with higher flight to wing the 
skies. 
Who then shall fear to fill the 
funeral-urn? 
Since God is good, and all He does- is 
wise. 



KEATS. 

O list'ner unto Nature's beating heart! 
O great high priest of Beauty's inmost 

shrine! 
Thy warm young life, so humanly di- 
vine. 
So soon laid low by Death's unsparing 

dart. 
Still fires our souls by that immortal 
art 
Which pants and soars in ev'ry death- 

iine. 
A laurel crown, world-given, shall be 
thine! 
Let him who fain would know thee go 
apart. 
Amid the tender beauties of the 

Spring, 
And, w'itli receptive spirit, hear thee 
sing- 
Of those rich charms, so sweet and 

manifold. 
Which, aided by thy sight, we may be- 
hold. 
For Nature alt her best was wont to 

bring. 
To fill thy soul with joyous wondering. 



If you have ever clambered down a 
ledge, 
By some unseen, loud-babbling little 

brook. 
Which coyly hides in every veruured 
nook. 
And marked the drooping blooms that 

fringe the edge— 
If you have loved the tangled alder- 
hedge. 
Or into star-filled skies have loved to 

look; 
Or have exulted when the thunder 
shook 
The cowering earth, in awful pealing 
pledge 
That He who made the worlds is ever 

near; 
Or if your hearts, with high and joy- 
ous fear. 
Have heard the tale that Nature still 
repeats- 
Then will ye lend an ever-willing ear. 
Then are ye worthily endowed to hear 
The wondrous, beauty-laden songs of 
Keats. 



QUESTIONINGS. 

THE STUDENT (meditating). 
'Tis evening, and the glowing tide of 

day 
Adown the shore of time now ebbs 

away. 
The stars come forth, while in the 

gloom 1 ponder 
On life and death, and what awaits us 

yonder. 
O changeless mystery of human life! 
We pause to wonder sometimes in the 

strife. 
Forgetting in our fear the power of 

sadness. 
And feel a thought, which, long-endured, 

is madness. 
As one who w'akes from evil dreams at 

night, 
And quakes and shudders with a new 

affright. 
So from our dream of life we some- 
times wake, 
And new-found glimpses of our being 

take; 
The awful real without imaginings— 
The barrenness and nakedness of things; 
And utter ignorance at last may show 
How little, in ourselves, we truly know. 
O man! to-day so filled with pride and 

lust. 
To-morrow mingled with ignoble dust; 
To-day endowed with- almost Godly 

power — 
To-morrow perished like the frost-killed 

flower. 
O whence and whither! Is there no 

reply? 
And is there naught on earth to satisfy 
These questionings, whose tumult fills 

the brain? 
And shall our askings be forever vain? 
No answer comes from Science, Art or 

History; 
Religion scarcely solves the mighty 

mystery; 
And even Nature here at last must fail. 
Our common mother may not lift the 

veil. 
In midnight hours I've often studied 

long- 
Yea, even till the birdling's matin song. 
And chanticleer's loud summons far 

awav 
.Announced the advent of another day. 
Till eastern skies were striped with 

crimson bars. 
And Phoebus rose to quench the glow- 
ing stars. 



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I've used most earnest powers of mind 

and will, 
But yet the secret is a secret still. 
'Twas vain; but now' with stronger 

quest I call. 
Propounded at the portals? of the All. 

CHORUS OF ASCENDING SPIRITS. 

Out of the hopeless Infernal, 

Into the Glory supernal, 
Thus with progressive flight we as- 
cend 
To the regions of Life Eternal! 
Freed from the bands that have bound 

us, 
And the sin that was in and around us, 
Tho' we were lost in the desert of Pain, 
Yet the Spirit of Love has found u.?! 

Out of the vile and bestial, 

Into the pure and celestial— 
Into the infinite ocean of Love, 
We arise from the sordid terrestrial 1 

THE STUDENT. 

The spirits speali— yet strangely said in- 
deed: 
From this some mystic meaning we 

must read. 
Is thi.-- the answer— that, tho' sin and 

pain 
May hold the world beneath their iron 

chain. 
Yet all things gravitate to higher forms 
As springs the grass when summer sun- 
shine warms? 
Tho' we may fall and darken this 

aooae. 
In God's great plan 'ti- but an episode. 
In this short life He bids us have our 

will, 
But keeps His watchful eye upon us 

still: 
And, after years of discipline and pain. 
We all the Godly likeness shall regain. 
If thi.* be so then death is but a door— 
A door of change for wounded, sick 

and poor: 
And we may pass from Time, thro' 

those dark gates 
Where veiled Eternity in silence waits, 
Without a pang, save that which may 

arise 
In breaking Nature's closely-woven ties, 
I am not answered, but this tho't 

brings rest, 
And partial satisfaction to my breast. 
And now receive my spirit, kindly 

Sleep! 
God pity them to-night, who wake and 

weep! 



SONNET. 

Our human love's full meaning no one 
knows. 
How foolish 'tis to think we can de- 
fine 
The thing called love— give bound and 
certain line 
To that which highest boundaries over- 
flows. 
And to whose deepest depth no plum- 
met goes. 
And if this human love of yours and 

mine 
Can be thus deep and strong— O Love 
Divine! 
O deeper Love— wherein we may re- 
pose 
Without unre-t, how tender thou must 
l>e! 
As in the sunlight, shining warm and 

wide. 
We mav serenely in that Love abide. 

Although its awful light we dimly see. 
O may it come upon us like a tide! 
And' overwhelm our hearts and make 
us free! 



TWO SONGS. 

A LOVER'S QUESTION. 

Can you tell me truly, sweet. 

What could fail to love you? 
Could the grass beneath your feet, 

Or the stars above you? 
All the trembling blades of grass 

Willing bow before you — 
Though you crush them as you pass, 

Still wi"th joy adore you. 

Stars of light, that crown the sky. 

Brighter grow to bless you— 
From their station grand and high 

Longing- to caress you. 
All the flow'rets where you tread 

With their love are blushing, 
Sighing. "Better to be dead 

With so sweet a crushing!" 

Why, O Love, if this be so, 
Can you me be blaming. 

That you find me bending low- 
That my heart is flaming? 

Can you tell me trul.v, sweet. 
What tould fail to love you? 

Could the grass beneath your feet. 
Or the stars above you? 

A LOVER'S RHAPSODY. 

O. I have .'een her! 

Not all the powers of ill 
From truth could wean her. 

O, I have known her! 

Let all who see and know 
Bright queen enthrone her. 

O, I have heard! 

Her voice w^s sweeter far 
Than morning's bird. 

To see her face, to know her heart. 

To liear her voice — 
This may be all m.v part — 

Not mine the choice. 
Methinks that even this 
Were food for lasting- bliss! 



A SEA PICTURE. 

A broad, fair bay, upon Whose pebbly 

I- 1 rand 
The limpil waters gently kiss the land. 
The skies are brightened with a crim- 
son flush, 
And over all there broods a solemn 

hush. 
The frolic winds, which all the sum- 
mer'.?' day 
Have filled' the happy hours with idle 

pilay— 
Now chas'iing flee-cy clouds across the 

blue, 
And now, wiith pranks and gambols not 

a few. 
From glistening waves have scooped the 

flying foam, 
At last have fled to seek eome far-off 

home; 
Not daring in 'their .mirth to linger 

nigh, 
With such a glorious spectacle on high. 
For hundred-itinted banners, purple, 

gold. 
And every gorgeous shade that can be 

told, 
In unimagined beauty are unfurled, 
To grace some pageant in the upper 

world. 
The gently heaving surf's unceasing 

moan 
For very awe has well-nigh silent 

grown. 
I stand and listen: it is darker now; 
I hear the lap of waters round the pro"w 



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23 



Of some half-stranded dory, and I feel 
The firs't faint aight-breeze past my 

temples steal. 
In such a holy hour and such a place. 
He mu.-t be lowest of the human race 
Who is not rtirred to higher, purer 

thought. 
Than any books or precepts ever 

brought 
To man's world- wearied spirit. I.,et us 

go 
Apart with Na^ture more of God to know. 
The itong-ues of men and angels could 

not preach 
What I have felt, at twilight, on the 

beach. 



CALL TO ACTION. 

The seasons go and come; 

And thou, dull heart, art dumb. 
Still dumb, while Autumn's mellow 

golden days 
Are all about thee, and the tender rays 
Of the declining sun caress the earth. 
Still dumb, forgetful of thy lofty birth. 

Arouse! for all's at .stake. 

In God's high name, awake! 

Say not thy work is small; 
The world "hath need of all. 
That volte of thine may not with clarion 

sound, 
The ages pierce, and ever be renowned; 
But if some chord be true in thy low 

song. 
Its music, rising upward, rich and 
strong. 
Shall join the liarps and lyres 
Of archangelic choirs. 

In action be not slow, 
But challenge every foe; 
Alike, the new-coined lies, with mischief 

fraught. 
And bigotr.v, whi h hampers honest 

thought. 
A lliousand battles wait the willing 

hand; 
Faint not! but boldly strive, and firmly 
stand. 
Let not your courage fail! 
You must, you shall prevail! 

Pass by the pleasure-cup. 
For poison fills it up. 
W^ear not the poppy wreath upon thy 

brow. 
Let pa.'?sions not entice, be wakeful 

thou! 
Let others prate of peace, 'tis thine to 

fight; 
"Advance! Set on! For God and for 
the right!" 
Thus shall thy life be blest. 
And then— the final rest. 



IN CHANGE— UNCHANG-EABLE. 

Yesterday's rose 

Has withered and flown; 
To-morrow be.- tows 

A gift of 1-er own. 
The flame of to-day 

Shall not always burn. 
But smoulder away. 

And he ^-old in its turn. 



All things must change 

Which before us are set, 
And the new and the strange 

Are everywhere met. 
From the sky-reaching peaks, 

To the green waving grass 
And the slow winding creeks— 

They change and they pa.-s. 

'Tis constant mutation. 

Yet if you could enter 
The midst of Lreation— 

The heart and the centre- 
Doubt not that your eye 

To discern w^'ould be able. 
From the low to the high, 

That all things are stable. 

Each atom and spark 

Has its motion decided; 
And the light and the dark 

Shall be ever divided. 
All things are arranged 

With a place and a plan. 
In their essence unchanged. 

From the clod to the man. 

The in.-crutable Must 
I^ heard from on high, 

Though we sink in the dust- 
Though we live or we die. 

Why not yield us to Fate, 
Since Love is God's name. 

And His bidding await 
Who is always the same? 



MY BOOKS. 

When false friends fail me. 
And foes assail me 

With hostile looks, 
To find new pleasure, 
In fullest measure, 

I seek my books. 

I say no new thing. 
But not less a true thing. 

Of these true friends. 
When dear ones leave me 
And sorrows grieve me, 

They make amends. 

The lore of sages 
W'ho rule the ages. 

May here be found; 
And thoughts to feed us. 
And upward lead us 

Where joys abound. 

Their bindings battered, 
And pages tattered. 

But make more dear. 
To worthy lovers. 
E'en through the covers. 

Their sweets appear. 

O patient preachers! 
O lofty teachers! 

Be with me still! 
Pure pleasures yield me. 
And keep and shield me 

From earthly ill. 



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EARLIER VERSES. 



CHRISTMAS, 1881. 

(First Verses Published.) 

O angels! Welcome in the morn 
On which the 'Son of God was born! 
Let every living thing rejoice, 
And greet the day with happy voice. 

As. when in that far olden time. 
The angels sang in heavenly chime. 
And shepherds gazing from afar, 
With rapturous' joy beheld the star, 

O may our heart.* this day be light! 
May every home with love be bright! 
May God in love our spirits bless, 
That we may see His righteousness. 

Then shall our Christmas carol be, 

Lord of Life, we come to Thee! 
Help Us to make, not this alone. 
But every day we live, Thine own.* 

BE STRONG. 

Be istrong! O heart of mine, be strong! 

1 hear the echoes of a mighty song. 
And ev'ry winged, sweet, celestial choir. 
Shouts forth two words, enwrapped in 

sacred fire. 

No better sermon, to make I'ight tlie 

wrong. 
No word .so hard to heed as this— be 

strong! 
As life progresses, we shall see, at 

length 
All things of good desired, are found 

by strength. 

Yea, even when the earth was fair 

and young. 
When man first walked the shady 

groves among, 
That mighty message had been brought 

to men, 
Alas', unheeded since as much a.s then! 

This is the music of the shining spheres! 
This is the message of the rolling years! 
This God command!?, and all his hosts 

prolong. 
And Nature shouts through all her 

works, be strong. 

If all thy past be naught but vain re- 
gret, 

This motto from despair shall win thee 
yet; 

And if thine heart be buried deep in 
wrong. 

Then borrow strength from God, and 
■thus be strong. 

Then swell the anthem loud, O angels 

bright! 
Make vocal all the air! Make glad the 

night! 
Borne to my weakness, on the winds 

along. 
Descends Thy mandate— O, my heart, 

be strong. 



OPENING OF THE SERVICE. 

(Lynn Forei-t Society.) 
Afar from traffic's busy hum 
With grateful hearts, O Lord, we come 
To this secluded, calm retreat. 
Where man may best his Maker meet. 



No baser thought may here intrude 
On "Nature's sacred solitude; 
Thy glory, brooding on the hills, 
Has quite effaced our lesser ills. 

We feel the spell of time and place 
Establish, Lord, Thy reign of grace. 
And peace which never shall depart— 
Eternal springtime in the heart! 



a few 



LITTLE THINGS. 

•Thou hast been faithful over 
things." 
No duty should we shirk. 

Because 'tis small; 
'Tis ours to do the work, 
And that is all. 

Then light your candle, soul, 

And trim it well. 
It shines tlirough chink and hole 

From where you dwell. 

And all its little rays 

May help some heart. 
To look for better ways 

And nobler part. 

He, who the smallest things 
Can do aright. 
Is fit to sit with kings. 
In spotless white. 

Then look not high and far. 

But close at hand. 
The mighty, distant star 

Is not thy land. 

Be just, be true, be right. 

In daily deeds. 
And then thy leader. Light. 

Straight forward leads. 

Fo'r each cold-water cup 

Its honor brings. 
When God shall reckon up 

The little things. 



HEIGH-HO. 

Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho! 

Sumniers come and summers go; 

But my heart is beating slow 
With a dull and sullen woe. 

What it is I do not know- 
Care not, dare not, ask to know. 

Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho! 

What a weary world of woe! 

Peasant grand and noble low. 
Blind men set the way to show 

Little that which man doth know- 
Burning, yearning, still to know. 

Heigh-ho! Heigh-ho! 
Summers come and summers go. 
Where shall I my love bestow? 

Unto Him who loves me so; 
Who doth all that's lovely know. 

Truly, fully, this I know. 



THE WEATHER. 

When summer lightnings cleave the sky, 

I sit my roof-tree under, 
And. fearing nothing, ask not why, 

But simply— let it thunder. 



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25 



When floods of rain come pouring down, 

I find remonstrance vain; 
And so I say, without a frown, 

"O, well, we'll let it rain." 

And when the hurricane descends. 

And rocks my cabin low, 
I find my grumljling never mends, 

And so— I let it blow. 

"When weather wild besets my heart. 
When storms of life are near, 

To check their rage is not my part, 
Yet still I little fear. 

When winds assail your found'ring 
bark, 

'Tis always best, you'll find, 
While looking upward thro' the dark. 

Thro' all to be re>igned. 



DAYBREAK. 

O'er village, sea and hills, the early 

morn was breaking; 
Night shadows from the fields belated 

flight were taking: 
But Night herself still sat upon her 

throne, 
Though all her loved attendants far 

had flown. 
For secretly the goddess, Day did love. 
But when his shining flushed the sky 

above, 
Sh fled in terror o'er the dewy lawn. 
While fast pursuing came the glorious 

Dawn. 

The village stood betwixt the hill and 

valley. 
And heard the Sea his savage surges 

rally. 
And beat unceasingly the rock-strewn 

shore, 
And chant a paean with his mighty 

roar. 
But now the ocean sings a sweeter 

sound. 
His shining pebbles gently grate the 

ground. 
He sobs within the beach's snow-white 

arms, 
But sobs for joy, forgetting fierce 

alarms. 

And there, where I^and and Sea. were 

fondly meeting. 
The fisher-folk exchanged their morning 

greeting; 
Then took the boats, and. with the la- 
bored oar. 
Pushed off, rejoicing, from the foaming 

shore; 
While heaving billows, which were 

heaped around. 
Gave echo to the rowlock's creaking 

sound, 
And through the morning, o'er their 

watery way. 
They sang in chorus, "May God bless 

the Day." 

But now the new-born day was brighter 
growing. 

And in the village, signs of life were 
showing. 

The little village seemed so very old. 

It migqht have flourished in the Age of 
Gold; 

And every narrow', crooked little street. 

Seemed worn for centuries by human 
feet. 

Behind the village lofty mountains 
frowned. 

With all their domes majestic, forest- 
crowned. 

One low, long house, with windows 

closely shuttered. 
Stood on the outskirts, where the pine 

trees muttered; 



And. through the window of one little 
room, 

A light shone faintly through the morn- 
ing gloom. 

There lay an old man on his dying bed, 

Deatli's ghastly pallor o'er his feat- 
ures spread. 

Beside him sat his daughter, sore dis- 
tressed; 

Her face was hidden on her father's 
breast. 

"O Elsie!" said the father, soon awak- 
ing. 

"Methinks that now tlie dawn of day 
is breaking. 

daughter! throw the latticed casement 

wide. 
Till Day shall come in all his pomp 

and pride! 
My child, my life was full of sin and 

crime; 
Death takes me down before God's 

chosen time. 
The fight for friends and power,, t'ne 

greed for gold. 
Has made this body prematurely old. 

"O child! I do not now deserve forgiving, 

1 have renounced my God, tlirough 

years of living. 
But O, last night to this low room 

there <ame. 
One with a message in the Master's 

name. 
O fear not! child of sin and darkest 

night, 
The morning light shall come, both soon 

and bright. 
And I, rejoicing, listened to the word. 
And knew God's mercy had my heart's^ 

prayer heard. 

"Elsie! be brave and cease this foolish 

weeping, 
Let's see the dawn o'er sea and 

landscape creeping." 
His daughter, hearing, threw the case- 
ment wide: 
And then the I-^ht poured in. a glorious 

tide. 
The sun, to each low-passing cloud, 

had lent 
A splendor worthy of the Orient. 
"I am with all things now content," he 

said. 
And then lie smiled exultant, and was 

dead. 

And Elsie, at the Window, with her sor- 
row. 

Knew well that he had seen his last to- 
morrow. 

She saw the solemn forests, and the 
lawn. 

And, over all, the light-revealing dawn 

The village flooded with its radiant 
sheen, 

Showing the hill tops, and the sea be- 
tween. 

And where the highway, o'er the hill- 
sides brown, 

Stretched far and farther, to the hazy 
town. 

The morning bright, and all the day's 
glad shining. 

Can banish not her spirit's sad repining; 

And, in the murmur of the wind-tossed 
pine, 

She caught no whisper of the voice di- 
vine. 

Darkness is banished! And the first 
sun-gleam 

Through all the chamber poured, a 
widening stream. 

She turned in terror to her father's side; 

She looked, and saw his features— glo- 
rified. 

Ten thousand morning angels now 
Break forth in shout and song; 

O'er sea and plain and mountain's brow 
The swelling chord prolong. 



26 



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"All praife to Him, the greater Sun, 

The Light, the Life, the Word! 
•Another of God's days begun, 

Hosanna to the Lord!" 
And at that sound of music sweet. 

To close the glad refrain, 
With all the landscape at his feet. 

Day come-s witli glittering train. 
O Lord! if, through this darkest night. 

We catch one glimmering ray, 
O make it grow with lustre bright, 

To shine upon our way! 
Then, when these^ poor benighted eyes 

Shall close on earthly things. 
The Sun of Righteousness shall rise, 

W^ith healing in His wings. 
O Lord! I grope and ask for light. 

And none shall say me nay. 
For from Thy gates of morning bright, 

Down comes the Perfect Day! 



POETICAL PARAPHRASE. 

XXIII PSALM. 
The Lord a shepherd is to me, 

T want not while He's nigh. 
By waters still He leadeth me. 

In pastures green to lie. 
My fainting soul He doth restore. 

And heal, and cleanse, and bless; 
For His name's sake He leadeth me 

In paths of righteousness. 
Yea, though I walk thro' death's dark 
vale, 

No evil will I fear; 
Thv rod and staff they vomfort me. 

For Thou Thyself art here. 
For me a table Thou hast set. 

In presence of my foes: 
With oil anointest thou mine head. 

And now my cup o'erflows. 
His love, as now, shall follow me 

Through all my days as well; 
And in Thy house, O. Gracious Lord, 

I will forever dwell. 

MY IDEAL. 

Behold thf- Princess! Ladies, stand 

aside! 
The Queen has entered, sweet and dig- 
nified. 
Tho' many envy, none so vile or mean 
To dare deny she is the rightful Queen. 
No crown fhe needs— she hath her own 

sweet self; 
No roval blood or piles of costly pelf. 
Nay, none of these! she needcth none, 

in sooth. 
Who walks in beauty, womanhood and 

truth. 
Our radiant Queen is good and fair and 

wise; 
Her scepter is the splendor of her eyes. 
With unintentioned might she holdeth 

all 
Ar; -Willing captives to their lovely 

thrall. 
Yet she is one, tho" Queen of all she 

be. 
Whose life is clothed in maiden mod- 
esty— 
Whose bearing says to all, both rich and 

poor, 
"Take off your sandals at this temple 

door."'" 
They give the lie to her who make so 

■ bold 
To see her pride and say that she is 

cold. 
We know, indeed, that highest t)eaks 

of all 
Are mostly held in Winter's icy thrall. 



But these are first to catch the burning 

ray 
Which lights the East at early break of 

day; 
From Alpine vales We see the Jung- 

frau glow, 
Whose rosy tint no le-ser peak could 

show. 

E'en so, O peerless one. tho' seeming- 
cold. 

Thou canst not hide a heart of ruddv 
gold. 

To us, whose lowly lives have gone 
astray. 

Thou art the light, and harbinger of 
da.y. 



(Lynn Transcript.) 

NATURE AND ART. 

I stood amid the everlasting hills. 

Where Nature's footsteps trod. 
I heard the murmur of a thousand rills, 

That sang their praise to God. 
Beneath my feet the distant river ran; 

I heard the ocean's roar; 
How little seemed the arts of boastful 
man, 

And all his learned lore. 

What artist, who, with greatest toil and 
pains. 
His brush and pallette wields. 
Could paint a picture of these shining 
plains, 
Or these enchanted fields? 
What sculptor, carving with unerring 
hands' — 
What marble-cutting Greek, 

Could loose the captive from his stony 
bands 
And make the statue speak? 
Not one of all the masters of the brush, 

Though he forever tries. 
Could paint the plumage of the early 
thrush. 
Or maiden's beaming eyes. 
Not one who works in stone or plastic 
clay. 
From Grecian Phidias down. 
Could carve the dewdrops on the new- 
mown hay. 
Or cloud-veiled mountain's crown. 

Before mine eyes in long array they 
pass— 
The greatest names of art; 
The names that win the plaudits of the 
mass. 
Though only known by part. 
Yea. all of these, from Buonarotti 
grand 
To every lesser light. 
Are toys beneath the great Almighty 
hand, 
Which maketh day and night. 

Could great Beethoven, Mozart, Men- 
del*^ sohn. 
Repeat the ocean's roar. 
Whose billows roll unchecked from zone 
to zone. 
And stretch from shore to shore? 
Could voice or note be like the sad sea- 
gull. 
Lanienting o'er and o'er, 
Whi( h skims the wave by crags in 
distant Mull, 
Or lonelj- Labrador? 

Not all the builders of the thousand 
domes. 
That j^tand beneath the skies. 
Could rear the peaks whqre eagles 
make their homes. 
Or where the tall pines rise. 
liut there is still a Mighty Arcliitect. 

Who breaketh all the bands, 
And, for His lovely dwelling, doth per- 
fect 
An House not made with hands. 



REPRINTED VERSES. 



But still the poet standeth over all, 

And strives to tell the tale; 
Where paint«r, sculptor, workman, fall, 

And great musicians fail. 
But no, 'tis vain, no tongue of his can 
name 
The things he loves so well; 
The secret of the hills, or sunset's flame, 

No word of his can tell. 
The vales lay bathed in lig^ht beneath 
my feet, 
A scene too sweet to name! 
The West was glowing with more fer- 
vent heat 
Than A'ulcan's furnace flame? 
And then I turned to Nature and 
adored; 
H^r zephyrs fanned my <:heek; 
I heard afar, where many waters 
poured, 
The voice of nature speak. 

"O worship not before my mighty 
throne. 
There is a higher yet, 
For 'Him who dwells above, in love, 
alone. 
While suns shall rise and set. 
Nay, more! the planets from their 
course may swerve. 
And die in darkest night; 
But IHe, the living Master whom I 
serve. 
Shall be forever bright." 

For One there is behind a cloudy veil, 

A veil that's never rent, 
A King whose bidding has no fall or 
fail— 
The Great Omnipotent. 
Before His Presence, Nature bends the 
knee, 
While, from His awful throne, 
Come counsel, mercy, pardon and de- 
cree, 
And none are left alone. 

But Nature still should be within thy 
art. 
For that is ever well. 
But Nature still should be within thine 
heart, 
And Nature's G-od should dwell. 
In Nature's workshop walk with rever- 
ent tread; 
Obey thy conscience still; 
Then may thy soul, by Love Eternal 
led. 
Ascend the Heavenly Hill. 



SUMMER EVENING. 

'Twas in the dusky gloaming; 

Each twig was wet with dew, 
And all the birds, far-roaming. 

With tired pinions flew. 

Some lone and some together, 

They all flew home to rest; 
And soon, with drooping feather. 

Each nodded in his nest. 

The frogs broke forth right cheer'ly. 

In swamps below me far; 
The breeze of night moaned drear'ly 

To every tranquil star. 
My heart was filled with longing — 

With dreams of buried years. 
And at those memories thronging, 

I scarce restrained my tears. 
My past of joy and .-orrow — 

Forgot by all save me. 
And I, perchance, to-morrow 

In Death's embrace might be! 
But each breeze, falling lightly. 

New hope and comfort brought. 
The stars beamed forth more brightly. 

As grew my shining thought:— 
That One still lives above us, 

A friend wbo ne'er forgets. 
The King who deigns to love us. 

The Sun that never sets. 



He hear.* the grasses growing. 
He sees each sparrow fall; 

All-seeing and all-knowing, 
He ruleth over all. 

To Him who ever liveth 
No thought of ours is lost, 

From day to day He giveth 
The summer and the frost. 

Yes, He will still remember 
My every passing thought. 

Through' June and bleak December 
There's naught can be forgot. 

No word that I have spoken, 

No thought I've left unsaid 
Can fail to leave some token. 

Though I were doubly dead. 
The night-clothed meadows vanish. 

The planets o'er me roll. 
No earthly power can banish 

The summer from my soul. 



HYMN— GOD IN NATURE. 

All Nature is a mighty book. 
The leaves are open— let us look. 
'Tis fair, and bright, and good indeed. 
And plain, for he who runs may read. 

When Nature hold.* me in her spell, 
By wood or mountain, hill or dell, 
mV spirit often seems to rise 
To Him w'hose hand has made the skies. 

With Him my being doth commune. 
To Him my singing I attune. 
I look with clearer spirit-eyes 
On all that doth around me rise. 
When men look forth, they only see 
That wave or mountain, cliff or tree; 
Our wilfulness doth make us blind 
To that which lingers close behind. 

For these the glass, in which we see 
The truest image, Lord, of thee! 
A mirror, set that we might know 
The face of Him 'tis made to show; 

A symbol of the great To Be 
He hath prepared for you and me, 
When all, at last, shall bid farewell 
To earth and death and sin and hell. 

A lig'nt unquenchable doth shine 
Through all that feels that Hand Di- 
vine — 
A light, descending from above. 
To show the perfect law of love. 

Yet all that is is but a dream. 
And is not but doth only seem — 
An "insubstantial pageant" built to- 
day, 
To-morrow crumbled, yes, and past 
away. 

Now darkly thro' a glass wo see. 
But. standing face to face with Thee, 
W^e'll pierce this little patch of night. 
And walk beyond, in God's great light. 

No longer shall we mirrors need. 
To know that God is Lord indeed; 
But with Himself sball dwell above. 
In everlasting light and love. 

But hark! I hear a mighty song. 
That rolls the lifted peaks along: 
And echoes, pealing fast and far. 
With notes, that reach the farthest 
star. 

That song of praise shall never cease; 
Its chords shall win the world to peace; 
The planets bright shall answer back, 
And pause to li-sten on their track. 

Break forth in singing, all ye hills! 
Ye fields and fountains, woods and rills! 
From slumber 'rousing, wake and sing 
The glories of your mighty King! 



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The loud-resounding ocean's roar 
Proclaims Thy truth from shore to 

shore. 
By lonely islands of the sea, 
The solemn surf is praising Thee. 

The ice-bound regions of the Pole 
Acknowledge His supreme control. 
All, all this universal frame 
Shows forth the glory of His name! 

Each star, which nightly doth return, 
To show His love doth brightly burn, 
Like angel-choristers of light, 
They lead His praises all the night. 

When feathered warbler's little throat 
Doth sing for Thee his sweetest note, 
Shall he who doth invoke the muse 
His humble song to Thee refuse? 



O help me, Lord, to know Thy ways! 
To learn Thy truth, and sing Thy 

praise! 
Wake! wake! ye nations of the earth. 
And let your sadness change to mirth! 

O well may earth and heaven rejoice, 
And shout, witli ioud-united voice. 
To Nature's God, who rules above. 
The God of Truth and Perfect Love. 

O Gracious Lord! I know' Thou art. 
And, tho' no wisdom fills my heart, 
Thy bare existeu'^e doth assure 
My soul, that all shall be secure 

O take me. Father, heart to heart! 
Thy grace display! Thy love impart! 
O make me pure, unseal mine eyes. 
And, with true wisdom make me wise! 



MAR 2 1903 



